


Hell of a Place to Live

by Wordwitch



Series: Hell of a Home, John Sheppard [2]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Episode Related, Gen, Psychologists & Psychiatrists
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-01
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2017-11-15 09:50:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/525978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wordwitch/pseuds/Wordwitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Survival is a matter of mental acuity and mental agility. And a certain degree of mental stability. </p><p>John and the leadership team begin to leverage the possibilities of a psychiatric ally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Trio](http://www.gateworld.net/atlantis/s4/transcripts/415.shtml) through [Search and Rescue](http://www.gateworld.net/atlantis/s5/transcripts/501.shtml)
> 
> The arrival of the Therapist.

It was a couple of months before the results of Dr. Butler's search filtered through to me; I'd expected as much, and had spent my seriously considerable down-time reading. I had no clue to what kind of situation Dave'd had the PDA designed for, but it was sweet: the couple-three times someone grabbed it out of my hands to see what I was reading, it showed the fourth chapter of The Brothers Karamatzov, each time a few pages further ahead. Now, that is a boss-button I can really get behind. Boss-sensor?

Whatever.

  
What I was reading was enough to scare the magazine out of my P90, so I was grateful, kind of, that the galaxy was pretty calm just then. Not that my team didn't get into trouble, but it was separate trouble, the kind I am supposed to let them alone to get into, and it usually left me hanging out in the city. Rodney fell down a hole with Carter and Keller. Ronon had to go Earthside for a performance review, which wound up including, and getting rid of, a small Wraith invasion. Teyla kept looking for her people, in complete defiance of every "take it easy" command I gave her, which, okay: par for the fucking course, right? My whole team smiles indulgently and goes and does whatever the hell they want if they don't agree with me.

  
I sent email to Dave a couple of times, and he wrote back to me promptly, so that channel was open. We sent snail-mail back and forth, and neither of us got that, so theory proved. I took it to Carter, Dave took it up with, God help us, the Postmaster General, and we kinda sat back to see what sort of fox the hounds would scare up there.

  
Dave sent me the twenty people that Dr. Butler had picked, and I spent a solid week poking through the files - got Lorne to help me, and Carter had some things to say, and Rodney poked his nose in once or twice. We really had been suffering both with no psych and with the temps, so it was a project we were all actually behind. We pared it down to five, with a possible sixth, and Carter sent the files under her name back to the SGC. Goal there being to have the IOC take it seriously. God knows what they'd think I might be after, although we spent dinner one night cracking up at Rodney's guesses.

  
Bernadine Abigail Jernigan showed up in the last batch of newbies before everything hit the fan - about a week before. Lorne had rounded up the military folks, including the female Rangers I'd requested for help on certain specific planets, and was running through roll-call with a list. Rodney was in full voice with his latest batch of teen-aged kittens, all curiosity and pounce, and he and Radek were trying to keep them from killing us all before they got them to the big conference room to orient them. Lorne had detailed a squad of Wojskas to herd them at Rodney's request: the big Poles, between having to deal directly with The Dread McKay and having been told to Think of Wraith, were as grim a set of non-American military as anyone could hope for, and were, temporarily, capable of cowing the newbies into a certain level of compliance.

  
Later, of course, they would find out Szukała was a complete weakling for baked goods, and Podgórny sang at the drop of a glass, Pług would actually consent to repair rips in your uniform, and would barter for whatever you could offer, and Kwiatkowski was tending a pet plant under Parrish' strict supervision, and their ability to scare the newbies into behaving would be lost. However, by that time Rodney would have them under control. So: worth it. 

  
Medical staff were being corralled by our resident barbie - I really shouldn't call her that, she's quite competent, but she gets on my nerves sometimes. Carter waded into the new medicos, and came out towing a barrel-shaped older woman with pale short hair, and dragged her off to her office, talking a mile a minute. And that was the first I saw of her.  


~@~

It was two days and ten visits to the infirmary later (six military, four geek) that I got a call from Carter to attend a meet-and-greet in her quarters at eighteen-hundred. The Daedalus had brought us new uniforms, so I finished explaining the difference between senior scientists and newbie geeks, and when you have to jump-to and why, to the disgruntled or bruised military that had had orientation at the SGC, but no actual geek-experience.

  
And _turned_ them over to the sergeants, and _went_ to clean myself up. Uniforms with no burns, no stains, and no mended places: bliss! Even made it worthwhile to shave again.

Apparently the meet-and-greet was heads-of-staff plus seconds: Lorne was there, and McKay with Zelenka, and Bar- um, Dr. Keller and Dr. Biro.

  
Teyla was not there. Not with Halling - which, right, Halling was on New Athos - and not with Ronon. I twitched an eyebrow at Carter, and she lifted her chin at me. Okay, fine. Protocol. I was there as head of military, not as part of SGA-1. We had to limit this meeting, or we would be drowned in the people who wanted to meet her. I'd introduce her to the rest of the team soon. 

  
Dr. Jernigan had a very soft Georgia accent, low and kind, and told us all to call her Bernie, because doctors had to do a lot more work than she did, which made Rodney happy. Carter made sure we were loaded down with snacks and beer, and made us sit down to talk. 

  
"I swear to God that you need to make my mental health a priority, because when I have my breakdown, Atlantis will fall into the sea with those moronic ..." 

  
"I must agree, but not because of imminent stabilizer failure. No, without proper supervision, these learned people will burn entire city down, which takes much talent when city is floating ..." 

  
"I really don't know how those two escaped Kwiatkowski, sir, he's usually much more alert than that ..." 

  
"And," I put in, "I've told all our greenhorns that they are to follow orders only from their sergeants until they are personally presented to the command staff." I sat back with a huff. "Frickin' idiots. I agree with Rodney: until his people are under control, we are all at risk." 

  
Dr. Jernigan blinked brown eyes at us. "This sounds very dangerous, but I don't understand. Aren't all the scientists here very intelligent?" 

  
Rodney sucked in a huge breath to expostulate, and then let it all out wordlessly, falling back into his chair and poking gloomily among his ... vegetables. I frowned. There was chocolate, in cake and in other goodies; but Rodney only had - I caught his glance at B - Dr. Keller. Oh. He only had healthy things on his plate. I left Zelenka explaining to Dr. Jernigan the dangers of highly intelligent people who were used to being the only ones who could understand things in our sort of environment, and went to get some real treats for Rodney. 

  
He really does put his mental and physical health on the line for us every day, and twice as much in a crisis. He deserves to be pampered a little when we can do it. Like right after a Daedalus run. I put together a good plate for him, and decided that Dr. Z. deserved one as well. 

  
"I do, of course, hope to settle in a bit, maybe learn a little about your wonderful city, and get familiar with the hazards, but surely, Dr. McKay, you have only to ask and I will lend a most willing ear." I grinned to myself as I swapped out Rodney's plate - spilling a carrot stick as he failed to let go in time - and doing a much more graceful exchange with Dr. Z. Rodney had competition in the sentence-length division. 

  
I ignored Dr. Keller's glare and settled back into my chair, excusing my own silence with a mouthful of Rodney's broccoli and dip. Chocolate is his thing. Mine - is Terran veggies.  
Dr. J. did a really good gather-everyone's-attention set of moves, straight out of my best instructor's class at the academy, and we all obediently paid silent attention.  
"I do want to say this, because it had come to my attention Earthside that there have been problems between the military and my profession. Let us not have any such problem here." 

  
She looked around at us. I blinked, heavily. 

  
"It is no part of my mandate to make recommendations, let alone orders, that any person should be either relieved of duty or sent back to Earth." 

  
Carter was looking faintly and grimly pleased. 

  
"My assignment is to assist you all in surviving your work with as much mental health as is consonant with your well-being and your ability to continue to do the work with which you are tasked. I shall do so on request only, and only toward the goals chosen by the person with whom I am working. 

  
"Now, I do have to tell you, and to ask that you tell your people, that all your files have been opened to me. This was not at my request, but appears to be necessary to the kind of work you folks do here. This way, at least I won't have to ask consarned idiotic questions in the middle of a session. Which leads me to my last bit. 

  
"I have been asked to keep my eyes open for situations where people are altered from their normal states, given the kind of compromise to which you all have found yourselves vulnerable. I ask that you pass this along as well." 

  
Rodney was beginning to blow up like a balloon in dismay, and Dr. J finished hastily.  
"I'd like to visit with you all in all kinds of situations, just to establish a baseline. If I could have two weeks to settle in and get to know all your folks a little?" 

  
"We are not nice people!" Rodney exploded, and she soothed him down: "Exactly, Dr. McKay, and I need to know what kind of not-niceness is normal so that, for example, should I find you painting daisies on the wall, I'll know to call on Major Lorne and a squad of Marines to escort you to the hospital!" 

  
I couldn't help it. I sniggered myself out of my chair.  


~@~

Like I said, it wasn't long after that that the sanitation system hit the big rotor. Teyla was kidnapped while looking for her missing people. I was tossed into the future and got to see what disaster looks like - my poor city. And Michael set a trap for us that, like the idiot I am, I led us right into.

  
When it was all over, we had gained Teyla, the remnants of her people, her baby, which she named for me and not for Rodney!, and the clone of our lamented Carson Beckett. Go us. 

  
We had lost nearly a squad of my men, most of Teyla's people, a Jumper! and most likely Michael along with it, and Colonel Carter, although at least she wasn't dead, just recalled by the IOA. 

  
And I was confined to bed for the foreseeable future, Dr. Keller having taken extreme objection to my insistence on going after Teyla with my team and, uh, some crushed ribs. And that puncture.

  
Hey, that piece of rebar wasn't that thick. But anyway, she had taped me up and shot me up so I could go, so staying put afterwards was a small price to pay.  
And, to tell the truth, I was a bit tired. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Search And Rescue 

Dr. Jernigan caught up with me after a few days. I was slept out after the surgery, the team had decided they could quit the constant vigil, Teyla was spending time with her baby and Kanaan on the mainland, and Lorne had decided that I should start back in on paperwork. I was bored enough to agree. I was also glad we do paperwork electronically: the handheld was so small it didn't put any strain on my ribs, and Rodney had loaded a few games on it that I could swap over to when my eyes started to cross.

Frankly, I was glad to see her.

"Are you well enough to hear my preliminary report, Colonel?" she asked, one hand on the back of the chair by my bed. Her current escort settled himself by the door, eyes flicking constantly over the rest of the infirmary and its doors and windows. Good man.

"Please," I nodded to her. She draped her uniform jacket over the back of the chair, and sat down, plucking at her trousers.

"I am having trouble adjusting to these," she confided. "I don't think I've worn them since my last hunting trip and that was, Lord!" I had to grin at her expression. "nearly twenty years ago!"

"What were you after?"

"Deer. I got a 200-pound six-pointer, and Alice got a 190-pound eight-pointer, and by the time we'd worked our way through all that venison, we'd moved into the condo in Atlanta, and were well on our way to breaking up. I gave her the last ten pounds of sausage as a moving present. Never really had the heart to hunt again after that."

I grimaced. "Breakups can be hard."

She nodded. "Breakups are always hard, even when they're friendly. It's ripping loose ties of the heart. Why are we talking about breakups?"  
I scrunched up my face. "Trousers, I think. You don't have to wear them if you don't want. Your civilian clothes are fine, or I'm sure there are skirts to go with the uniforms. Somewhere."  
She waved her hands in dismissal. "It's good to show that I'm on-duty. It's also good to blend in. Anyway." She cocked a bright brown eye at me.

"Go for it."

"I'm nearly done with my preliminary interviews with the staff here; just you and Specialist Dex to go, actually. I've got the matrix of descriptions logged, and I'm ready to move on to the second stage."

I was boggled. "How did you manage that so quickly?"

"Group discussions." She shot me an evil, evil grin. "Major Lorne gave the military a truly inspiring speech, and then gave me your folks by squads. A little beer, a few pretzels, and I was able to do six people an hour."

I shook my head blankly. Wow.

"I recorded the speech, if you'd like to listen to it later," she added. And yes: this I would love to hear.

"Dr. McKay did something very similar, and gave me his people by department, and Dr. Keller gave me her folks by shift. So even with the emergencies, I've been able to cover, as I said, nearly everyone assigned here. I'll start in on the Athosians once they've settled in and gotten their physiology worked out a bit."  
I raised my eyebrows at her; the Athosians, not being resident in the city, weren't actually in her job description, but she answered impatiently.

"Oh, of course, Colonel! They are permanent allies, and have been resident in the city and on the planet before; besides, I'll take a couple of the linguists and anthropologists with me, and we'll get a much deeper cultural record for them. They had a great deal of oral history that, according to Ms. Emmagen, they would dearly love to have preserved.

"So: the military folks have astonishingly low stress levels for the situation they have been living under, which can be laid primarily at the trust they have in their command structure. They are most concerned about the - the IOC, which I am given to understand sticks its nose into matters that it does not understand for political purposes that have no place here. A few people are dealing with deeper stress levels, but have asked for personal appointments to handle those. The first-wave folks have asked for some private group sessions, which seems entirely reasonable to me. I've asked for volunteers for facilitators, and once we have their training done, we'll start those sessions. Second-wave folks have asked for mixed sessions, so I've left them in negotiations with first-wavers; then we'll have a go on that."

"Hold up a minute," I said. "I got integration problems?"

"No, Colonel," she smiled. "But there is a level-of-experience difference, and the servicecritters are moving to deal with it appropriately. Now: the scientists."

I felt my eyes roll, because - really. Were they ever reasonable? Let alone sane.

"It has been made clear to me that survival of both scientist and city depend on a successfully negotiated path between sheer terror and self-confidence. With that in mind, I can state that, again, you have differing layers of attitude, this time in three segments.

"The uppermost, those scientists who have arrived within the last month, are in a state of defiant self-confidence. Dr.s McKay and Zelenka are attempting to keep them in projects where their survival rates are reasonable while allowing them to experience Atlantis' differences from Earth, and Pegasus' differences from the Milky Way. This ... is not altogether successful. I am working with them to develop some targeted training methods.

"The middle layer is composed of scientists who have been here long enough to see what might go wrong, but not long enough to have contributed successfully to group survival. They tend toward panic and despair. Group appointments have been set up.

"The third layer, comprised of the surviving first-wave scientists, is awash in Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and Survivor's Guilt, which they handle by constant work. I am still in listening mode with this group; it may be that it is proper to do nothing until and unless they are ready to rotate back to Earth. However, I am accepting appointments on request."

Dr. J's eyes were kind of implacably kind. She wasn't pulling any punches on our condition, and she wasn't claiming to be able to fix anything. I dropped my own eyes. Wish there was anything I could do for them besides get between them and Genii or Wraith, and I said as much to the lady.

"I'll let you know if anything comes to my attention," she assured me. "Now, let's talk about Medical."

If I could have, I'd have sent her away. I'd have left. As it was, I called it on account of location.

"Maybe we could discuss that one in another place, Doc?" I glanced around the infirmary and then raised my eyebrows at her. I could tell she knew what I really wanted.

"A rational request, Colonel," she agreed. "And now I have one of my own. I would be very grateful if you and Specialist Dex could see your way clear to having snacks and conversation with me, so that I could put the Tau'ri side of my matrix in place."

Tau'ri? Oh, right, Goa'uld-society name for Earth. "I never got used to that name," I admitted to her. "I only knew about the SGC for a few weeks before we shipped out, and you never hear about Tau'ri out here in Pegasus."

She smiled broadly at me. "It's a good way to tell longtime SGC personnel from longtime Atlantis-specific personnel," she commented. "Would you feel up to visiting my office tomorrow sometime? And bringing Specialist Dex with you?" _Visitin' mah awffice_ , it sounded like, comforting in a way the flat pan-American accent of my brother was not, in a way my own Nevada twang, when I accidentally hear it recorded, isn't either.

"I'll get him to push my wheelchair," I promised. "Say, Doc, could you maybe answer a question for me?" She nodded, brown eyes bright. "What do people ... _do_ in sessions with you? I mean - it sounds like a debriefing to me. And when I've had to talk to psychs in the past, it was always about staying in the air, so I'm sure I did it wrong."

Dr. J scratched her throat, thinking. "It's different when it's personal choice instead of mandated," she said. "There's this thing about secrets? They expand to fill a person's whole brain. And most of us, especially under these conditions, could use a lot of that space for thinking and solving problems, for, say, _survival?_ " She smiled at me. "So actually saying the secret out loud, to someone who is required to keep it and who it can _not_ insult or hurt or, really, bother at all, frees up a whole lot of brain room for what we really need it for."

Huh. That ... actually made some sense. I had a lot of secrets I'd been guarding.

"Good enough, Doc," I said. "We'll come see you tomorrow morning."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Between episodes; John's first session.

Ronon agreed to wheel me down to Dr. J's office, and I would definitely choose him as my driver in a chariot race. It was good practice for the Marines, and we dodged almost all the scientists - except Rodney, of course, who yelled at us all the way to Dr. J's office. He tried to escape once we got there, but the doc pointed out that Teyla had also shown up, so double-scoping was right in bounds.

Only she said it nicer.

We were already laughing and shit from the trip down, and Teyla was mocking us for "desiring to experience personally the speeds of your electronic 'cars' while not maintaining the level of safety for others you had provided for that entertainment. Which, as I recall, had been insufficient at the time," and we were trying to figure out how to do a fair wheelchair race, me in one, and who would push whom, when I realized:

Dr. J had not asked any of us any personal questions. She was just watching us, bright-eyed, and putting in a word here or there to keep things rolling. I quirked an eyebrow at her, and she shushed me with a grin, so I figured it must be going according to plan.

Somehow it turned into a discussion of who Torren Johnnnnn liked best, with Teyla offering (again) to provide him, with gear, to the highest bidder. As though anyone could get him away from her, but still. Kid's a handful. He's also a snugglechimp, and I love it whenever I can steal him for a few minutes, or even an hour. Rodney was upset, still, that she wouldn't let him hold TJ, but face it: the guy flinched, and we had kid-on-the-floor. We give him a carefully-calibrated amount of grief over that, so he knows we still care.

We were winding down with snorts and scraps of insults, when the doc said to Teyla, "I understand that you continued with fieldwork until your son was actually born. Did these gentlemen adapt to that okay?" and I flinched and grimaced - way to go with the poker face, Shep, though I wasn't expecting that one. Teyla gave me a look that was still on the chilly side nearly half a year later, and said "I found that Terrans, or some of them, have unrealistic views about the amount of leisure that is available here. Additionally, I do not appreciate, nor did I need, enforced inactivity."

Ronon, the traitor, chimed in "She was fine until she got hit with a Wraith stunner. Sheppard was a mess, though. He totally lost it."

"I did not lose it," I growled, and Rodney contradicted immediately, "Oh, you sooo lost it, you overprotective Neanderthal, we had to beat you over the head until you got some sense back."

"I was right!" I protested, and then we got into it all over again - with an edge this time. I still hurt from her getting stolen and messed with by Michael, though I gotta hand it to her, while her being pregnant was bait to that asshole, being pregnant did not slow her down any offworld or on the city.

Once we slowed down again, Dr J thanked us for our assistance, and her guard opened the door for us, not that I needed the help.

"That's it?" I asked, surprised.

"That gives me the basic parameters, yes, Colonel. I'll fill everything else in through observation around the city."

Weird, but okay.

"I believe the Colonel needs to return to Sickbay," Teyla put in, and since Ronon agreed, all I could do was wave goodbye as I was wheeled off.

~@~

I saw Dr. Jernigan again in passing here and there - here being Sickbay until I was let loose, and there being the Mess Hall, sitting with one group of people or another, as I healed up. I finally cornered her there, and got her to sit with me on the balcony, her current guard standing at the door back in.

"Okay," I said, "so you're settled in, and you're working with people. When are you gonna call me in? It should be before I go back off-world."

She grinned at me, and finished her bite of stir-fry.

"That's not how it works, Colonel, as I told you: I will only work with individuals such as yourself upon request. You haven't requested, yet."

Oh. Huh. Right.

"Plus," she went on, between the breakfast she was gobbling down as enthusiastically as Rodney, but a lot more neatly, "it sounds to me as though you'd forgotten everything else I said that day. I'll only work with you on goals that you set yourself, and I shall not be recommending you or anyone else for any kind of restriction unless it is overtly apparent that it is physically necessary." She glanced back up at me. "For example, if you start foaming at the ears and tossing my furniture around."

I had to laugh at that. Foaming at the ears, right.

We set it for later that afternoon, and I showed up on time, for once more curious than suspicious about a shrink. Dr. J had swapped the furniture around, so it looked nothing like what Heightmeyer had had. There was art around - some of it looked like Lorne's work, and some was definitely sculptures from Pegasus artists, but there were prints from Earth as well. The chair I picked was easy to get into, easy to get out of, and comfortable to boot: totally different from the shrinks' offices I'd been trapped in before.

Her guard was off in a cubbyhole with his radio in one ear, and an earbud in the other, standing at ease and not seeming to watch either of us. He was a big Chilean Iquique, some up-country farm-child turned special forces, and while his English was decent, Cabo Primero Nahuel Umana usually just ignored stuff not said to him: a good pick for inside a shrink session.

I huffed with relief, and slid back in the chair. 

"Okay, Doctor J, hit me with your best shot," I said, and she sneered, with great dignity, in my general direction for the lousy puns.

"I think," she said gravely, "that we may dispense with the background overview, as that was given to me to review by your brother in his briefing before I went to Colorado for induction. Also, I have read your service jacket among the rest that were assigned to me in coming here, and I have caught up on the mission reports here in Atlantis since I arrived."

I was caught between itchy shoulders that she already knew so much about me, and relief that I wouldn't have to tell her all that just to get things going.

"Your brother detailed to me the things that he wishes me to help you process and heal from – his words. I have noted these and set them aside.

"Colonel, what do you want from me?"

I'd had enough time to figure this out, and between the reading I'd done and some hard looks at my habits and reactions, I had a prioritized list.

"I want to stop putting my city in danger by putting myself in unnecessary danger.

"I want to stop being surprised when someone kicks my feet out from under me: I'm told I flirt, and I really don't know I'm doing it. It's dangerous here. It has to stop. Also, I would really like to see these things coming soon enough I can head them off.

"I'd like to have a clearer idea of what my values are. I know I have'em, I just have very little clue what they are. I'm tired of getting blindsided by my own reactions.

"I feel like a bomb sometimes, and that's not safe for the city, either. The books said that was related to repressing stuff about my mom, and so I … guess … I need to unrepress that stuff. I do not want to be a bomb."

Dr. Jernigan was nodding and writing things down in a little book. Uhh .. I peered more closely at it. Actually a PDA shaped like a little notebook. Cool.

"And," I huffed, "I need to know why Dave thinks I'm queer. I think I know why Dad told him I was – it was the closest he could come to why he really hated me – but I need to know why Dave thought it was likely true. Which means I have to figure out if it's really true. Which," and I had to look away, "would be easier if I was hotter for girls than I am. I'm just not that interested, mostly. But I've never been interested in guys, either. Which the books tell me comes back to my mom.

"So, doc," I said, looking at her with a pained smile, "think you can help me out, here?"

She was still scribbling, but she nodded, and looked up at me still nodding.

"That sounds like a very reasonable set of goals, Colonel. I think we can meet them, especially if we don't try to do them one at a time. I'd like to warn you about a few things, given what you've asked and what I know." I nodded back.

"This is gonna hurt worse than pulling glass out of your back. It may hurt as bad as a Replicator sticking its hand into your head, and for the same reason. You tend to repress pain a lot, and you've been doing it since you were a bitty baby. When we work on it, you are gonna feel it. And you have to, because that's the only way to get it out of the system.

"You are gonna hate me for that pain. When it stops hurting so much, you might fall a little in love with me."

"Transference," I nodded.

"Exactly. Fortunately, I'm immune to your charms," she smiled evilly, "so you don't have to worry any about that.

"Finally, you're gonna find it all gets worse before it gets better. You'll have flashbacks, and you'll have memories of stuff you hope didn't actually happen. If you decide that your reactions are off, and that you're not safe to go offworld for a little bit, you can ask for me to have Dr. Keller ground you for a mild case of flu. I won't do anything of the sort without your expressed and written request, mind: I just want you to know the option is there if you need it.

"I think that's all, then. You got any questions?"

"Just one," I said, struck. "You think we can get a Replicator to come do this for me?"

She just laughed at me.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> End of [Search And Rescue ](http://www.gateworld.net/atlantis/s5/transcripts/501.shtml); [The Seed ](http://www.gateworld.net/atlantis/s5/transcripts/502.shtml)

The next several sessions were weird - not actually like psychiatry, not really like therapy; more like a kind of mental exercise. Or something. Related to the six months I'd spent with the Ascensionist Ancients, except less quiet.

So she made me talk about how I felt, only without asking me about my feelings, which started out as a relief. _Ah do nawt wish to know, Cuhnell_ , she would drawl, all honey and razors, _whethah you ah sad or angry or afraid. Frankly, Ah do nawt cayah_. She figured that that was the least of my worries, and asked me instead about tension in my cheekbones, and in my ankles; about whether I had pains that skipped around over my torso; whether I had cold spots or hot spots (or both at once). I found myself paying attention to my body in a way I hadn't since I was in dressage, and not knowing could get me thrown on my fool cowlicked haid. I found myself regretting this a whole hell of a lot in sparring, and blew three sessions early before I could figure out how to pay attention on command, and ignore my pains on command as well.

Then she started teaching me about my body language. _I know_ , she'd say, _you believe your slouch says 'Fuck you very much,' but it actually says, 'I am afraid that you will try to make me do something I very much want not to do, so I will try to distract you by pissing you off until you can't think straight, and you'll forget to order me to do it._ I did not buy this, so she ambushed me in the hall several times when I was slouching, and proved that it was always just that kind of a sitch. Apparently, I was terrified by Rodney. This I salted and took, because the Doc kept always being right; but Rodney was the single most comfortable and amusing person on all of Atlantis to hang out with. Which then made me think: How scared am I of everybody else? And why? But she wouldn't answer, and barely let me ask.

Call it basic training for the mind. So I was barely out of mental boot camp when Richard Woolsey arrived, completely full of The Book, and without any ties to any of us - no understanding of who we were and what we had dealt with already. He wouldn't let Teyla have her man join her. He cut off Dr. Keller's investigation of the virusy dealy that was dooming our clone of Carson, and made her defrost him and try out her results. He dismissed That Asshole Michael, preferring to believe that we have "taken care of him" rather than that he was regrouping and plotting.

Damnit.

But I was still glad to have him. What I'd guessed at while we were waiting the first time to hear who the IOA would put in control had been right: I can jusst-about control our military complement. I have no desire whatsoever to oversee the civilians, let alone set policy. I was glad for Carter, who was able to set military limits for us. And I was glad for Woolsey, who'd be able to set ... call them "political" limits for us.

So of course things blew up for Woolsey: Keller came down with a really bad case of Hive Ship, damaging my city and putting us all at risk for, what, a dose of darts? We'd all been infected while we were searching Michael's lab for Teyla, but she was the only one who produced tentacles and organic decking.

Carson II figured it out, and I tested the cure. Ronon tried to deliver it to Keller, but showed his hand too soon and got plastered to the wall. Figures it would take a baby Wraith ship to slow him down. Upshot was I had to break into her tower with a jumper - more damage to the city, but at least her ship wouldn't expect it. 

And I got her injected with the cure.

Michael's things love stabbing me in the stomach. Falling rebar there under his lab; a ship-tentacle in Keller's isolation room. That was its last hurrah, however, and we soon had her back to normal, me back in a clinic bed, and Carson II on his way "back" to Earth for more recuperation; she might have stopped the degeneration Michael'd built into his cells, but he needed a lot more rest than he could get in Pegasus.

Poor Woolsey dropped by to complain on himself for breaking so many protocols in so little time. I could sympathize: Pegasus doesn't run on Milky Way rules. But I was also relieved: Pegasus makes you flexible, or it makes you and the people who look to you dead. I was relieved that he was flexible enough to keep us alive.

Dr. J started jacking up my mental workouts. She had me start to tell her one thing about the day, one thing from when I was in college, and one thing from my childhood - my choice. Which, you know, interesting exercise: I kept expecting it to be hard, but I started out with little things, and ... Well. I actually got into the habit of talking. At least to her. And she would interrupt me to ask how I was feeling. So that was interesting, and actually let me, like, identify something by my body sensations, and make a note, and relax the thing I had tightened up. There is a real difference between pretending to be completely relaxed, and actually being completely relaxed. A thing I began using really hard when Ronon got kidnapped.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John deals with the events of [Broken Ties](http://www.gateworld.net/atlantis/s5/transcripts/503.shtml).
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to [Afina1992](http://archiveofourown.org/users/afina1992/pseuds/afina1992), and sie knows why.

Man, that was devastating. Also enlightening. Once we had gotten Ronan into isolation so he could detox and I had sorted out the administrative details, paperwork and personnel and so forth, I went to see Dr J.

"You always think you won't break, you know? At least, I always thought so. Didn't break for the Taliban, sure didn't break for Kolya, and he had a weaponized Wraith."

Dr. J blinked a little fast, maintaining her professionalism, but, you know. Wraith are weaponized anyway, but for themselves, not _for_ human use.

"Do you think less of Ronan, then?"

"Nah. If anything, I feel bad about his countrymen, like I really didn't know what I was talking about. And like I really dodged a bullet there with Todd, you know?"

"Body check."

I thought about it. I wasn't tense, didn't feel fight-or-flight, didn't want to cry ...

"I just feel low, I guess. Like I maybe ought to despair, if I could get there. Like all of our efforts are hopeless. But it feels... theoretical. Appropriate."

"Say 'I give up,'" the doc directed me.

"I give up," I parroted back to her. 

She gave a little smirk. "Tell me your evacuation plan."

"Oh _hell_ no, we got too much to do here!" 

Dr J set her chin on her hand, and gazed at me, smiling a little.

"Colonel, do you in fact know how to surrender? How to give up?"

I looked back, thinking.

"I guess it depends on what you mean by 'give up'." I grimaced. "I have to surrender to Teyla and Ronan any time we spar, but I keep at it. I don't even try to keep up with Rodney, but I listen to him, I try to get the gist of what he's talking about to see if there's anything I can think of. I compromise with people all the time."

"Ever feel like you should die?"

I gave her a wry grin. "According to Rodney, I don't have a lick of self-preservation. He accuses me of trying to kill myself all the time. It's just tactics, though: doing what I can to keep everyone else alive. I wouldn't just slit my wrists, but I'm a soldier. My life was always one of my weapons."

"Should we go back to the Milky Way? Close up shop here, since we can't win against the Wraith? Take what we've learned and hit the road?"

"Hey!" I found myself on the edge of my chair, leaning forward. Well, if I was gonna be like that, I might as well get up. I took a quick turn around the chair. "Nothing says we can't win. Just, you know, another weapon in their armory we have to allow for." I braced myself on the back of the chair and glared at her. She smiled lightly back at me.

"I'd like to point out something to you, Colonel. You are alive. You have a profound level of endurance, just an amazing amount of endurance. You will tolerate anything that doesn't actually kill you. Your commitment to the survival and success of the people under your care is profound. Make a note, John."

She called me John. She only does that when we meet one of my goals.

"One of the things you believe in, one of your values, is your contribution to the survival and success of the people under your care. You have not yet discovered a limit to what you will do to achieve that, and you measure it by whether they have survived and succeeded."

This echoed. I mean, I could actually feel my skin pulsing in a kind of resonance, like I was a bell. I had dropped my head, and I just let it sink in.

"And I will tell you something else. You've told me you've been a failure all your life, and that despite the chest candy I am well aware of, and the education you have achieved, and the rank you hold, and the regard in which your colleagues hold you. And I know why you have always felt like a failure.

"It's because your mother killed herself.

"She was the very first person you ever felt responsible for, and you did everything in your power to contribute to her survival and her success, and you did this beginning as a baby, John, with the only information you were ever given about how you could help her. Your whole life you did this, and John."

My breath was shuddering through me, and I had hot and cold spots chasing themselves around my skin. My face was tight, almost swollen stiff, it felt like. I could barely see the fabric of the chair I was clutching.

"When she killed herself, you took responsibility for it. She died, and you decided that it was your fault. You hadn't been good enough to keep her alive.

"And then your father, whom you had no reason to doubt, agreed with you. He told you it was your fault. And he punished you with exile.

"But it wasn't your fault. Her actions never had anything to do with who you were, or what you did. She did what she did because of her own decisions. You didn't make her do it, and you weren't responsible for her, and it was _not. your. fault._

"And what your father did was reprehensible. He was wrong in the first place, and cruel in the second place, and pretty nearly evil in the third place, and what is more, he knew it, because he lied to your brother about it. 

"He was wrong, and it was not your fault you believed him at the time, but I tell you now: he was wrong. It was not. your. fault.

"John, I have no idea how you kept believing in your own worth to contribute to the survival and success of the people around you, but you did. You never gave up on it. You still haven't given up on it. And you never will.

"John, you are amazingly strong. And you are amazingly good. If you ever have to endure what Ronan is enduring, I know you will get through it.

"And I am honored to know you."

And she shut up. Which, granted, didn't mean a whole lot at the time, because everything she had said was ringing through my head, and through my memories, and it just.

It was really noisy in my head for a while.

Now, during Brain Boot Camp, we had practiced what to do when something like this might happen, so I just let it all ... do what it wanted to do. I didn't try to bring my thoughts into order, I didn't try to think of a specific thing, or avoid thinking of anything. I just let it happen.

What I couldn't do was to keep track of everything, and remember it all. There were pictures, there were memories, there were remembered voices and me arguing with them, and all of it was really fragmentary.

And, bit at a time, my brain settled down. And began to feel empty. And quite a bit more organized.

And when it all settled down, I eased myself around the chair, and I sat down in it. I wasn't ready to look at Bernie, yet, so I laid my head back, and I blinked at the ceiling for a little while.

A bit after that, a bottle of water and a box of tissues landed in my lap. I made use of them, and splashed a bit of water on my face, and finally looked at the doctor.

"Are you good to go?" she asked.

Could I leave now? Could I deal with Ronan's situation now? Could I move forward, knowing something new about myself now?

Had I "processed" this?

Yes.

I gave her the best grin I could, and patted her on the shoulder, and left.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [The Daedalus Variations](http://www.gateworld.net/atlantis/s5/504.shtml) and [Ghost In The Machine](http://www.gateworld.net/atlantis/s5/505.shtml)

Another day, another disaster, or that's what it seems like. What's weirdest is that it seems like, as bad as we have it, the other versions of our universe have it worse. Like, even our bad decisions were the best that any version of us could come up with. At least our Earth isn't overrun with Goa'uld, or Wraith. Or Replicators.

Or those Star-Trek Borg-critters. Wherever they came from. Still, I was glad to give myself a hand there. And I got a chance to do one of the things Dr Bernie had told me to do: gave myself outright credit for what I do well.

The fact that I got to say it to a different version of myself only made it more real to me. I know Rodney was completely put out with my narcissism, because he and I play for bragging rights, but this is something he's not really aware of.

I can brag at him safely. He can brag at me safely. Where we compete is on equal ground. He can't squash me because I'm not science, and I can't squash him because, 1), not military, and 2) not under my command.

Team aside. It's not like any of them actually feel bound by my orders, anyway. They decide to do what I say if they think the suggestion has merit. Teyla and Rodney have completely corrupted Ronon on this topic. Damn it. I lucked out in that his judgement is excellent and his loyalty is even better. So. Yeah.

Actually, all of us compete for bragging rights in a way we could totally not do with anyone else ... I was gonna say on Atlantis, but really not anyone else anywhere. It wouldn't be safe, or diplomatic, or smart.

But I do have integrity. I am a dedicated commander. And I am a skilled pilot. These things are true, and saying them aloud let me settle into my skin more solidly. Just like the Doc said.

And Teyla finally let Rodney hold Torren for a few minutes.

* * *

And then sorta-Elizabeth sorta-came back and sorta-betrayed us and sorta-betrayed her-? colleagues. 

I wish I could honestly say that I understood her actions. I can't do it. I don't understand the wish for ascension, I don't understand Replicator thought, I don't understand.

Damn it.

I don't understand manipulating your friends, your family, into doing something dangerous for your benefit, not for theirs, thinking you have the situation under control. 

Rodney did this to us, to _me_ , at Doranda. And now sorta-Elizabeth, who - Elizabeth had been mad at Rodney for getting someone killed, had been furious with him for the destruction of the system, had been furious with _me_ for supporting him. _I_ had been furious with him for asking if I didn't believe in him, if I didn't trust him, because I do. Always. If five scientists say something can't be done and Rodney says he can do it, I always believe Rodney, because he has always done it.

I always believe Rodney, because I know he has our best interests at heart.

At this point in my process, I realized that every single muscle in my back and neck had seized up. I checked Dr Bernie's schedule, but she was booked; sorta-Liz had messed with all of us.

So I stretched myself out, carefully, and looked at the mirror. I mean, I let my brain float a little to see what in my experience was reflecting this situation. What dangerous ....

Okay, well that was humiliatingly obvious. I believed my mom, because I knew she had my best interests at heart. I knew she loved me. And she ... I guess I have to use the word "manipulate" here just because I can't think of a better one. She gently coerced me into doing what she wanted. And.

Actually, I didn't realize that anything was wrong untilll ... I guess some time after Dave was born. So I figured out something was wrong way too late to be able to make a choice about it, too late to be able to see anything about the pattern of it. I just knew my mom loved me, and that I was sometimes uncomfortable, but that I loved her, and I depended on her. 

Sometimes Rodney makes me uncomfortable, but I like him, and I depend on him.

I liked Elizabeth, and I depended on her.

I like Teyla and Ronon, and I depend on them.

 

I am so screwed. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The Shrine"; "Whispers"

Dr Bernie was sitting with one of the nurses when we got back from freezing our tails off sitting around on top of the flooded gate. So she must have heard Rodney talking to Dr Keller when he offered her his fruit cup, because she came bursting through the curtains like the wrath of God, Dr. Keller told me later. She said "Something's wrong with him, put him under a scanner," and when the first scan didn't come up with anything, she said "try it a little more, try it a little harder, there's something wrong."

Keller finally had me come in to supercharge the machines, and then it showed up: a teeny tiny little thing, as still as it could be, just waiting quietly on top of one of the curves of his brain. Keller figured out she could use one of the machines to fry it where it lay without hurting Rodney's brain at all.

I stood by to be helpful if I could. Kind of frightening to think of something inside Rodney's brain. We need his brain. He needs his brain.

And to think that the first symptom was Rodney offering Keller his fruit cup.

So. Really exciting there for a while. Rodney took up a lot of Dr. Bernie's time there for a few days, agonizing over nearly losing his mind - oh yes, Teyla and Ronan recognized the critter, which is apparently common on a bunch of planets, and winds up giving people Alzheimer's syndrome really fast.

Gave Keller some ideas about the disease back on Earth.

Anyway, but then Rodney decided that he was in love with Dr Bernie, and started bringing her fruit cups and chocolate and shit. On account of her understanding his true self and valuing it.

She refused to date him, though.

I believe I was as relieved as I was amused. At least, for once he was falling for someone who wasn't fragile and who wanted him to be him. He told me all about the whole thing while I was sanding the pitting off of my surf board, winding up in despair over her being relentlessly lesbian.

I suggested he adopt her as a sister.

He's thinking about it.

I'm thinking about making a conversation with Dr B a portion of the post-mission checkup. We lucked out there, and I hate depending on luck.

~@~

That little bit of luck was balanced, as is par for the great golf course that is Pegasus, with our own special edition of The Mist: Monster Edition. We hadn't had a chance to put my All-Woman team through the special Pegasus training course as yet, so I was startled to find them sitting on top of one of Michael's labs. And then we lost the captain, and then ... I'm not sure, I cannot believe that the words "We're going to split up to cover more ground" came out of my idiotic mouth.

The one and only reason I don't feel worse about it is that every single one of us made complete catastrophes of judgment like that. More than once.

We did our best, given the mist and our impaired brains. And vision. And, you know, hearing. We got a trap designed and set, we adapted to the circumstances, we achieved our goals. Assuming we had an accurate count was just part of the impaired brains; _I know_ that you take your best estimate and add a third. Or, you know, triple it as indicated.

I hated losing Vega. But if I was going to lose Beckett Two, at least I could send him out alive with backup. Poor Rodney asking what was going on; I grabbed him by the jacket and hauled him along with us so he could catch up. Beckett One had always been a dear friend of his, and he was also fond of Two.

When Doctor J asked for my analysis, it only took me a few minutes. Impaired brains; doing exactly the most hazardous and least effective thing even as we had agreed not to, even as we were being TOLD not to; dying stupidly trying to deal with it the wrong way.

I sat and thought about my mom doing this.

I sat and thought about me doing this.

I thought about blood in the bubble bath. Trying to rescue my friends only to lose them all didn't seem like a parallel, and I said so.

Bernie called me on it though.

"Flying a nuclear bomb into a hive ship."

Oh yeah.

"Setting off the self-destruct on site. In fact, putting yourself in place to die to save others without considering all other options first."

I slouched back with my arms across my chest and my chin tucked, even knowing how defensive that made me look. It was honest, and the doc knew anyway; might as well be comfortable.

"So I'm always impaired."

"So your mother was impaired - we don't know by what, but we can recognize the evidence - and you learned adult responses from her."

I snorted. She waved off the disbelief.

"Who else would you learn from? Your father made sure not to be around, and no other adults bothered to become trustworthy enough. And then accepting that you were impaired yourself -"

"Brain chemistry," I agreed.

"What in the world else were you going to do? Body check."

I blew out my cheeks and refocused on my muscles, my skin, my joints.

"My scalp is tight, and I have numb patches. I'm'a get a full-body charlie horse here in a minute."

"You know what to do."

So I breathed through the spasms, clenched everything tight, and gradually got things loosened up, while repeating the things we had just said in my mind.

What that does is to shift things from muscle reactions to conscious knowledge. Which is one of the things I had asked her for. I looked at the "sacrifice play" response, and labeled it "impaired," and tagged it with an instruction to find other options.

Like I make Rodney do. Like I used to make him do all the time; he mostly does it automatically any more.

I can learn to do that if he can.

I smiled wryly at Doctor Jernigan. She smiled approvingly back at me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You will recognize that certain small and enormous actions are different from those in the original episodes.
> 
> This is one benefit of having an alert and knowledgeable psych on duty.


End file.
